


Taming of the Consort

by organanation



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Han and Leia dress up fancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-02
Updated: 2017-01-02
Packaged: 2018-09-14 08:46:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9171694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/organanation/pseuds/organanation
Summary: Han and Leia appear at a formal function for the first time as a couple.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Shout out to my BR, Reading Writing Watching!

“No, no, we can’t put Icestyo next to Dobel Protonwor,” Dodonna told Mon Mothma. 

“Well, he can’t be put next to Astatis Row. You know how he gets after he’s had a few drinks,” Mon Mothma said. Han was watching the whole exchange in disgusted disbelief. The high command had convened this morning to discuss plans for the upcoming state dinner to decorate the heroes of the battle of Endor. For some reason (possibly because he was sleeping with the highest ranking officer on the base), he was the only second-tier general required to be at the meeting.

 Mon Mothma, Rieekan, Madine and Dodonna had been arguing for almost an hour over the seating arrangements. Han had his arm around Leia, who had offered very little to the conversation. He could feel her getting more and more annoyed with the ridiculous banter that was taking place.  

“We are running out of places to put him,” Madine spoke up. 

“This isn’t a battle plan, Crix!” Mon Mothma exclaimed. Mon Mothma and Madine then launched into an argument about the level of difficulty of planning a successful battle. Han shook his head, trying to force himself to wake up. Surely, this was some bizarre dream.

“Do something!” Carlist Rieekan hissed at Leia from across the table. Leia snapped her datapad on and started madly writing. Han looked over her shoulder to where she was drawing up circles and writing names in them. After a few minutes (in which the command unseated ten of the fifteen people they’d already placed) Leia was placing the circles—tables, Han realized—strategically, occasionally rotating one or switching two names.  

“No, no, no! He and Onedumo will be arguing before the soup is served!” 

“Here,” Leia said stoutly, sending the image on her datapad up to the screen at the front of the room. The command was quiet for a moment while they looked over Leia’s outline, and no one could come up with any reason why it wouldn’t work.

“I suppose you have the menu conundrum all worked out, as well?” Dodonna asked with an air that Han guessed he’d regret in a minute. She didn’t reply, just sent another image to the screen that perfectly outlined a menu that would satisfy the dietary requirements of the different species attending the banquet. Dodonna didn’t say much after that. 

“Anything else?” She asked tartly. Han smirked as the high command humbly shook their heads. “Very well,” She finished, standing and leaving. He followed as the rest of the command staff picked up their bruised egos. It made him smile to think that, at 22, she could best four of the top military minds in the galaxy. 

“That was one of the sexiest things I have ever seen,” he whispered to her as they marched down the hall at a brisk pace. She raised her eyebrows. 

“I’ve never seen something that simple get blown that far out of proportion,” she bit. 

“How did you know how to do that?” He put his arm around her, slowing her to a slightly more comfortable speed.  

“I had to learn how to do all the things for planning banquets and balls and state dinners and receptions. I had lessons in protocol, etiquette, and decorum. How to greet people from every planet of every rank and title. Who I had to bow to, and who was supposed to bow to me. A simple seating arrangement and menu for a dinner banquet is hardly what you might call a stretch.” He smiled. 

“Am I supposed to bow to you?” He knew the answer was probably a firm and adamant  _yes_ , but it might be fun to hear her explanation. 

“As a General of the Rebellion, yes. However, you’re technically my consort, so no.”  

“So then, your royal highnessness, what does protocol dictate is the proper way for a scruffy smuggler slash general slash consort such as myself to ask a devastatingly beautiful princess slash general such as yourself to the banquet?” He tightened his hold.

“Well, protocol  _would_ dictate that you write to me and extend your invitation. However, as my consort, you are already listed as my escort.” 

“Your escort? You aren’t my date?” 

“You forget, General. I outrank you.” 

“Oh, believe me, Your Worship, I haven’t forgotten. And I think it is a little pretentious of you to assume I would agree to escort someone who outranks me,” Han teased. 

“You should have thought about that before becoming the consort,” she told him as they rounded the corner that led to the hangar bay. He pulled around her to face him. 

“Well, I s’pose I can handle  _escorting_  you, Your Worshipfulness,” he consented, kissing her. 

“Good. Because if you didn’t, I would be forced to pull rank.” She sauntered away from him, on about her next task. Han watched her retreating figure, her hips swaying a little extra, no doubt for him (though whether it was for his benefit or his detriment remained to be seen), and wondered how he’d gotten so lucky. 

00 

There was an envelope on her desk the next morning.  _‘General Han Solo,_ _smuggler, space pirate, scruffy-looking nerf-herder, and consort would be eternally grateful if Your Worship would be his date to the grand state banquet ball reception thing even though you outrank him. By one rank. But who’s counting.’_ Leia folded the paper and smiled.  

00

Han held up his uniform that he only wore when it was really, absolutely necessary (ok, every time Leia told him to, which was more often than he liked these days). It was black and had all sorts of decorations on the shoulders and chest and sleeves, including a weird crown-type thing that he’d never seen before but assumed meant that he belonged to Leia. The pants bore the red and gold of the Corellian Bloodstripes. He jumped in the ‘fresher, shaved, and put the monkey suit on. His blaster belt didn’t fit through the belt loops on the kriffing pants, so he was forced to wear the belt that had come with them. The blaster was clunky under the jacket, but he wasn’t going anywhere without it. The final touch was his Alliance medal, which he hung around his neck. Chewie laughed as Han emerged from his cabin. 

“The only reason they don’t have you in this getup is because you’re strong enough to yank their arms out of their sockets,” Han shot back, though he knew it was probably had more to do with the fact that Chewie was already covered with hair than anything. Han walked from the secondary hangar bay to Leia’s quarters. She was dressed in something far less standard-issue than his black dress uniform. Her gown was made of lavender shimmersilk and there was far less fabric than what she normally wore around the base. It showed off a great deal of her arms and shoulders as well as a bit of leg that was usually reserved for Han’s eyes only. Her hair was braided and coiled into a huge circle on the back of her head. He was speechless for a moment. 

“Good evening,” she grinned at his appraisal. 

“Good evening,” he repeated, offering his arm. She graciously accepted it and they set off towards the banquet. 

“This isn’t fair. You get to touch me, but I have to keep my hands to myself?” He teased, looking down at her small hand tucked into the crook of his arm.

“Just till the end of the reception, flyboy. Do you think you can last that long?” She asked.

“That’s the thing about Corellians, sweetheart. We can last _all night,”_ he replied.

00 

Lando looked smugly at the approaching couple. They were striking, him in his black uniform and her in her a strapless shimmersilk gown. _Lucky son of_ _sith_ _lord._  How Han managed to keep his head on straight with  _her_  on his arm, Lando would never know.  

00 

General Rieekan’s heart ached when Solo and Princess Leia arrived. Solo wore the golden diadem pin over his heart. Rieekan thought back to her first ball, when he, himself had worn that pin. Leia was 10 and she’d entered on his arm that night behind her parents. She was very nervous that first night, holding his arm in a death grip as they entered the ball. But Leia was no longer the little girl he’d escorted in that night, though, and she was definitely not terrified now. She was as beautiful as ever and smiled confidently towards General Solo. He smiled back and whispered something into her ear that made her blush ever so slightly. Rieekan smiled. Their planet might have been destroyed, but she’d obviously found a new home with Solo. Rieekan couldn’t think of anyone who deserved to wear the diadem more. 

00 

Han had a smug smile on his face as they joined the group. He wasn’t an idiot, after all. He knew what everyone was looking at, and she was his.  _Sith._ She was _his_. 

00 

Leia stepped confidently down the hall on Han’s arm, her heels clicking on the tile. Most of the high command had already assembled, and they were all watching her and Han come towards them. Lando was looking at Han like he was trying to figure out how Han had all the luck. Rieekan looked like he was a galaxy away. As the head of her father’s military, Rieekan had been her first consort, and subsequently her first escort to her first official ball on Alderaan. She’d nearly cut off the circulation in his arm, she remembered, thinking back.  Leia looked up at Han, who had an arrogant smile on his face. 

“They’re all looking at  _you_ , sweetheart, not me.”

00

The dinner was as tedious as she’d remembered all the other state dinners to be. Mon Mothma, Rieekan and Dodonna all spoke between the courses, waxing poetically about the end of the conflict and the return of peace. Then, they’d called forward the six Alliance men who were being decorated.  

“Generals Organa, Dodonna, Cracken, Rieekan, and Madine, with the support of Chancellor Mon Mothma and the lesser generals, would like to commend these brave men for their service to the Rebel Alliance and thank them for going above and beyond the call of duty for the sake of their fellow servicemen and for the Rebel Alliance without thought to personal welfare or safety.”

Leia had been chosen to decorate the men, and as each of their names were called, they stepped forward and received their reward. While she was grateful to these men for their services, what was wrong with sending them a thank you letter and a weekend pass? That seemed better than a piece of metal to hang around their neck. The last man straightened up and winked at her slyly. It took every ounce of her self-control not to shoot him with the blaster she had holstered to her leg.  

00 

Han followed Leia’s lead throughout the evening. He stood when she stood, sat when she sat, ate when she ate, and clapped when she clapped. The evening was thoroughly boring, consisting only of the dinner and the decoration of 5 pilots and a ground fighter. Leia left his side only to place the medals around the men’s necks. 

“What is it about getting a medal that makes men feel the need to wink?” She whispered to him as she took her place on Han’s left. Jealousy flashed through him as Mon Mothma stood to end the dinner.  His hand wandered to her leg but stopped abruptly when he reached the holster. She’d noticed his hesitation and smiled, her eyes still locked on the Chancellor.  _That’s my girl._  The dinner ended soon after and gave way to a reception for mingling and drinks.

The reception had been going on for an hour and it seemed as if it could go on for another two. Han was getting very bored of ‘looking General-ish’ (as Chewie had put it), and he was getting very tired of sitting in his uniform. He couldn’t stop thinking about Leia and that dress. It wouldn’t even be so bad if he could just _touch_ her, hold her hand or put his arm around her. But no, the object of his fantasies was across the room, being a dignitary, greeting all of the other planetary royalty at the reception, so Han couldn’t even admire her from afar.  _Oh_ _well_ , he thought,  _she’ll pay for all of this_ _when we get home_.  

A few minutes later, Leia fell into the chair next to him.  

“If one more person tells me I’d be better off running a home than an army, I may shoot them,” she said through clenched teeth, reaching for Han’s glass of vodka. 

“That’s not water,” he warned her, pulling her chair closer and tossing his arm around the back. 

“Good,” she replied, throwing back the glass and downing its contents. He offered her a crooked grin. He admired a woman that could drink something that strong as fast as he could without losing her cool.

“Ah, General Solo! General Organa! How very nice to see you. I’ve heard rumors…” Han didn’t think he’d ever seen this woman before, but Leia plastered on a smile and kicked him under the table. He straightened up. 

“You can’t believe everything you hear, Councilor,” Leia replied, trying to keep her breathing even. 

“Well, there’s always some truth to these things. Looks like we won’t be seeing you around the command center for much longer, then!” The woman laughed. Leia looked at Han and he saw that her fake smile had turned to a grimace. He nudged back the edge of his coat and showed her the blaster holstered to his leg. 

“Got that right. Leia’s thinking of moving up in the world of politics. Maybe invading a planet on the outer rim, just something small, you know, as a starter,” Han told the woman with mock seriousness. 

“Oh… I… didn’t know… best of lu…” The woman wandered off, shaking her head. 

“I need another drink.”   

00

The reception finally ended and the high command gathered to formally process out.

“See you all at 0800.” Rieekan bid the command goodnight as soon as the doors to the hall were closed. The others responded in kind and Han took advantage of the momentary distraction to whisper in Leia’s ear. 

“Quarters or the ship?” She blushed but took his hand and turned.  

“Nice place for a blaster, by the way,” he added. 

“I noticed you didn’t forget yours.”  

“Hafta be prepared to get after anybody who winks at  _my_  princess.” She stopped him in the deserted hall to kiss him soundly. “Quarters is closer,” he muttered after a minute. She only nodded, kissing him again. Hopefully, they’d make it this time. 


End file.
